


Purple is the Line between Blue and Red

by taichara



Category: Fire Emblem Heroes
Genre: Bruises, Huddling For Warmth
Language: English
Status: Completed
Published: 2019-09-01
Updated: 2019-09-01
Packaged: 2020-10-04 13:00:15
Rating: Not Rated
Warnings: Creator Chose Not To Use Archive Warnings
Chapters: 1
Words: 380
Publisher: archiveofourown.org
Story URL: https://archiveofourown.org/works/20471432
Author URL: https://archiveofourown.org/users/taichara/pseuds/taichara
Summary: In Nifl's eternal winter, a flame.





	Purple is the Line between Blue and Red

**Author's Note:**

  * For [Kalloway](https://archiveofourown.org/users/Kalloway/gifts).

_Gods take this wretched campaign._

And take Nifl's wretched climate right along with it. Cordelia -- not for the first time, certainly not for the last -- heartily wished Nifl, Muspell, _and_Askr to the bottom of a very deep and very dark pit. 

It was all very well to promise aid to a fleeing princess, very noble, let it never be said otherwise; but delivering that aid should have involved far more foresight than immediately packing up every available body that the Order had summoned to that point and summarily marching off through a portal and _then_ across Nifl's frozen countryside. The endless winter was bad enough; all the worse for their lack of preparation, or even the _ability_ to prepare …

A terrible soft rasp, not quite a cough, into her ribs drove the point more painfully home than her battered hide ever could. Not quite awake, Arvis apparently felt her irritation regardless and was starting to stir. Not good; he needed to rest. Cordelia wrapped her arms more closely around the shivering mage, her chin resting in the mass of his hair, and was rewarded with a sigh and then stillness.

_He's so cold. I can't keep him warm, no matter what I do._

_Wretched … Who drags a noncombatant on a military march?_

The brazier's coals were dim, but she didn't dare uncoil from the nest of bedding and woolen cloaks warding off the worst of the bitter cold, nor uncurl from her protective cradling. Unless the army was ambushed, Cordelia would not move until morning. Moving meant jarring the miserable bruising that marked her from ribs to knee -- a terrible fall, but it could have been worse -- and would let the bitterness in. 

That, she would not allow. 

She had a duty; more, she'd made a promise.

Arvis stirred again, rasped again. Before she could try to soothe him into sleep, one blood-flame eye eased open, though he didn't try overmuch to tilt his head and meet her eyes.

"… You're still here."

Beneath the woolens, Cordelia squeezed his hand in her own.

"Of course I am."

"… Thank you."

And then, stillness once again. 

But Cordelia knew her legendry -- knew _him_ \-- and heard all the things left implied by those few small words.

Maybe the cold was bearable after all.


End file.
